


221b + 3.14= Disaster

by Laurali_fangirl_of_221b



Series: 14 is a Special Number [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Pi Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurali_fangirl_of_221b/pseuds/Laurali_fangirl_of_221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock decides to practice sentimentality for John. He picks a holiday with a foundation in math and science. Baking ensues. Very fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	221b + 3.14= Disaster

John trudged up the stairs of 221b becoming increasingly aware of the pleasant aroma of baked goods coming from the flat. This alarmed him because he knew for a fact that Mrs. Hudson was visiting Mrs. Turner for tea, he had seen them in the window. He cautiously pushed open the door, “Sherlock!” He called hanging up his coat on the back of the door. Sherlock appeared wearing his usual suit paired with oven mitts. “John!” He clapped excitedly. ‘’Do you know what day it is?” 

“Friday, March 14th?” John guessed, clearly confused.

“It’s 3.14! Pi day!” Sherlock smiled clapping his hands again and causing white powder to shower across the room. “I made pies!”

“You baked?”

“Ah yes. Remember last month when we got in an argument over my lack of enthusiasm for holidays? Well, I decided to get excited about a holiday that is actually rooted in science and math. Granted, pi and pies have nothing to do with one another. That’s where the sentiment comes in.” Sherlock looked pleased with himself.

John found himself stifling a giggle as he walked into the kitchen. “You did all this?” He asked incredulity.

The experiments and lab equipment had been cleared to one half of the table and three steaming golden brown pies sat on the other half.

Sherlock waved his hands, “Yes, but really, cooking is just another form of science.”

John sat down and Sherlock handed him a plate and a mug of tea. “I made tea too!” He said proudly.

John was touched. “Thank you.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, which is which?”

“Left apple, middle cherry, right blueberry. You should sample them all. I have a chart set up; I want to see which flavors are most compatible with your taste buds.”

“You better have a second column for yourself,” John cut into the cherry with a knife. “When was the last time you ate?”

Sherlock shrugged. John smiled and cut him a slice. “We’ll taste them at the same time. Sit down." Sherlock sat down across from him and smiled shyly through his bangs which flopped down over his eyes. “Ready, three, two, one!” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but complied. John took a bite. It tasted pretty good. He chewed some more. The flavor was excellent, judging from the fact that they hadn’t had apples, cherries or blueberries, Sherlock had even ventured down to Tesco. John took another bite. He swallowed and took a drink of water. There was something leaving a weird aftertaste in his mouth. Maybe he was just imagining it. He took another bit and looked up to see Sherlock peering at him, as if he was gauging his reaction. John smiled widely, too widely. “It’s good Sherlock. Really good.” He took another bit but he couldn’t shake the strange acrid aftertaste.

John cleared his throat. “Sherlock, erm, did you wipe of the table before rolling the crusts?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “No. I don’t think so, I might have deleted that.” He thought about it for another moment. “No, definitely not. Did not wipe off table.”

John looked over at the side of the table still covered in beakers, test tubes, and the Benson burner. “What were you doing the experiments on before?”

“The breakdown of TETS and plaster when exposed to extreme heat.” Sherlock sounded bored. “Terribly disappointing-“

“Hang on,” John broke in, “Isn’t TETS used as rat poison?”

"Used to be, discontinued in the 1980s because small children and pets kept ingesting it.”

“And this was on our kitchen table, the one you were baking on?”

Sherlock turned to look at him suddenly. “This is bad.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” John got up and started to move. “We need to get to hospital, now!”

************************************************************************************************

John woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in his left arm. He blinked, the world was slightly blurry. Sherlock was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, with an IV pole next to him. Sherlock made a shaky attempt to stand when he saw that John was awake that resulted in him collapsing back into the chair. Sherlock gave up trying to stand and instead scooted him chair and IV over to the bed side in an awkward shuffle that made John giggle and then gasp as he felt his chest constrict.

Sherlock looked up, “You got a much higher dosage than me…”

John tried to speak, Sherlock handed him some water. “Don’t talk for a few minutes, TETS causes muscle constriction and seizures. We got here before the seizures though.”

Sherlock looked really uncomfortable and all of a sudden reached out to comb the bangs off John’s forehead. “I’m really really sorry John.”

John looked at him; Sherlock’s eyes were unusually bright and watery. “It’s okay, Sherlock.”

Sherlock grimaced, “No. It’s not.”

John looked over at his medical chart hanging from the wall. “No,” he said softly, “It’s not, but it will be, love. When can we go back to Baker Street?”

“Later day or early tomorrow. Probably.” Sherlock shifted. “You ate almost a whole slice.”

John grimaced “It was so nice of you, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, plus besides the aftertaste, it was really good. The smell was divine.”

“Mrs. Hudson came poking around before you came home. I think she was looking for a slice to take over to Mrs. Turner. I shooed her away. I guess that was lucky. Someone her age should definitely not be poisoned.” Sherlock smiled a pain smiled. “I’m not so good at sentiment I guess..."

John giggled and bit his lip, “No. You’re rubbish but you’ll get better. We’ll work on it.”

“Even after….”

“Sure, but there is no way in hell that we are letting you anywhere near the bloody kitchen.” John looked at Sherlock and burst into giggles. Sherlock followed suit.

John slipped his hand through the bars of the hospital bed and laced his fingers with Sherlock’s. “Shh.” John closed his eyes. “I need to sleep. You should too. Doctor’s orders.” He commanded when Sherlock opened his mouth to protest.

They fell asleep just like that, with their fingers intertwined and did not awake until the doctor came in a few hours later, to tell them they could go back to Baker’s Street.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This month was shorter than normal. Criticism and thoughts are greatly appreciated! This is a monthly installment so leave story ideas in the comments.


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